


_Harbinger

by glenarvon



Series: _Brilliancy [29]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Game)
Genre: Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Manipulation, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glenarvon/pseuds/glenarvon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiden's network has been breached by an unknown hacker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, practically _everything_ I could tag is some kind of spoiler.

[this takes place in 2022]

* * *

Traffic was too slow. Traffic these days was _always_ slow. ctOS had a habit of reporting _any_ speed violation immediately and it was scrutiny he couldn't afford right now. He was drawing enough attention with the noise of the combustion motor on his bike, wedged where he was between almost silent e-cars. Blume and the city had advanced the introduction of these cars with a hefty discount and tax cuts. The cars were self-driving and there was absolutely nothing they wouldn't tell Blume about their owners. In the last two years alone, these cars had started to outnumber normal cars within Chicago's city limits. They still required special permissions to drive outside the borders, but it was only a question of time. Blume had set down roots firmly everywhere.

Aiden flexed his hands around the grip, caught himself playing with the gas and forced himself into stillness as he waited for the traffic lights to change. Any other day, he could have hacked into it and made it jump for him, today he refrained, though he was surprised at how hard he had to push back against the reflex.

He had sometimes wondered how much time he had, playing this game. How long it would take for ctOS to finally fight back, until it wouldn't submit to him anymore. Yet, this wasn't it, this wasn't Blume or ctOS, he'd have a squadron of black helicopters hovering over him if it were. Blume wouldn't be content with hacking him, they'd find a way to tear him down bodily.

The lights finally changed to green and he let the engine howl as he accelerated, deriving some childish satisfaction from it. He cut sharply to the right, watched the concrete as it pulled close, an inch between his knee and the ground.

Blume thought they had taken the Bunker back. They still monitored it, carefully keeping track of its energy consumption, but for reasons that escaped Aiden, they'd never bothered to get surveillance up on most of the rest of island, nothing beyond what was already there and those cameras were easy to circumvent for anyone who had been there when they'd been placed.

Aiden's scramblers still worked. He'd tested them thoroughly before taking even one step outside and he kept a careful eye on their functioning now, as he drove over the bridge and past the old Bunker entrance.

The entire island had been Blume's old testing site, a miniature city and left as a carefully constructed industrial derelict once they moved out.

Free of the restraints of public road surveillance, Aiden sped up, wove through the walls of rusting shipping containers, let the bike bounce on overgrown train tracks. He pulled the bike around in front of another container, made it draw a hard circle before it stopped, leaving clear marks on the ground.

He climbed off and dragged the helmet from his head, hung it from the handle without a care and marched to the container, smashing his gloved fist into the metal hard enough to make it vibrate.

"Frewer!"

It took a while. It always did with Frewer, but eventually, the container was opened an inch, just wide enough to allow a careful look outside.

"What… do you want?"

"I need help," Aiden said and tried to sound and look non-threatening. Frewer had never stopped flinching in his presence and there were days when Aiden's patience with the behaviour was a little low and today, he was preoccupied with more important things. But it wouldn't help him if he spooked Frewer more.

"Help?" Frewer asked as if he had never heard the word before.

"Yes, help," Aiden nodded. "Can I come in or do you want me to shout it through the wall?"

Frewer _flinched,_ but finally pushed the metal further and stepped aside to let Aiden inside, who closed the container behind him. Without missing a beat, he pulled his phone from his pocket and tossed it on a table, on top of a pile of electronics, disembowelled devises and loose wires.

"Someone's been in my system."

Frewer looked from him to the phone and back. He frowned at Aiden, "You want me to look at it?"

"Obviously."

" _You_ want _me_ to look at it?"

Aiden felt the muscles in his jaw tighten.

"I'm not getting anywhere," he said after a moment. "I can't figure out how they managed to get inside. I can't find the fucking backdoor and I can't close it. I can't even trace it properly. I wiped the system, twice, and I know my backups are clean, but it doesn't last. Can't get a handle on it."

Frewer seemed to be thinking, finally reaching for the phone. He turned it in his hand for a moment, as if he thought he could find some kind of physical evidence of the breach. He put it back down, then went to the back of the container and crouched down in front of his server array, pulling plugs seemingly at random.

"You know," he said without looking back. "You shouldn't use the Lenses. If your system is compromised… they'll see everything you see."

Momentarily glad Frewer wasn't looking at him, Aiden grimaced and reached up to swipe the contact Lenses from his eyes. Digital Lenses had been the most useful development he'd ever seen. It spared him the trouble of looking at his phone all the time, it probably saved his life a few times. The Lenses had become part of everything he did.

He had forgotten they were there.

"I checked," he said, but quietly.

Frewer shrugged and heaved himself back to his feet, he flashed his teeth, but the expression was gone too quickly to be sure if it was a triumphant grin or not. Frewer's rig was decidedly old-school, at least on the surface. He didn't trust wifi networks and kept everything plugged in. He'd found some way to circumvent the Bunker's tracking system and leeched directly from the source. Aiden could log on, if he needed to, but he hadn't trusted his software not to set off every alarm in the network.

Frewer sat himself down on the table, pushed a stack of stuff aside to get better access to the keyboard, then looked up at the set of monitors on the wall, connecting to Aiden's phone.

"When's T-Bone going to be back?" Aiden asked after a while. He'd forced himself to lean against a barrel, cross his arms over his chest and pretend to be patient.

"I don't know," Frewer said, not looking at Aiden. "He doesn't tell me everything. I don't want him to. If they catch me, I can't betray him."

Data raced over the monitors, fast enough that even Aiden lost the thread a few times. Not for the first time, he wondered what Frewer would be able to do if he didn't waste so much time on meaningless paranoia. Not that he wasn't justified in some of it. Blume _was_ looking for him and who knew what they'd do if they got a hold of him, but Frewer had buried himself so deep inside his own shell, he'd effectively crippled himself.

"There," he said. "That's pretty sneaky."

Aiden stepped forward, calculated how close he could come to Frewer without startling him. He put a hand to the table and leaned in, an arm's length away.

"Your hacker is piggybacking on the ctOS signals and riding in whenever you connect yourself. Here," he pointed at the screen.

"I looked at that," Aiden said, somewhat defensively.

Frewer glanced up. "Looking isn't the trick. You've got to _see_. Your system isn't the one with the backdoor, ctOS is. I, uh, can't close that, by the way."

"Do you think that's Blume?"

"No-o," Frewer said slowly. "I don't think so. Doesn't look like Blume."

"DedSec?"

Frewer looked at him again. "You've angered them, too?"

"I'm not on their favourite persons list," Aiden said.

He pulled his breath in sharply and stood up straight. Paced a few steps, trying to think. The only answer to this type of breach, the only first aid step, would be to shut off his ctOS access. All of it, including the scrambler, until he found some working counter measure. But he couldn't take one step outside like that. There were still a handful of blind spots in the city, but he'd spend his entire time just getting anywhere, even with his face covered. ctOS tracked height and built and movement pattern, he couldn't conceal all of it, or all the time.

"Can you trace it back?" Aiden asked. "Can you find the hacker?"

"Hmm… no?"

Aiden spread his arms, exasperated. "No?"

"Look, I know your trigger finger is itching or something, but I'd have to dig through all of ctOS. Pretty deep, too. They'd know, at Blume, if I do that. They'll find me."

"I have to find this hacker," Aiden insisted. "What do you need me to do?"

Frewer turned around in his seat, glowering at Aiden. "There's nothing you can do! Blume will figure out what's going on! I can't hide that! And then they'll trace us, and they'll come here and it's all going downward from there." He looked down. "Sorry, for what it's worth."

"Not fucking much," Aiden muttered. "Can you do _anything?"_

Frewer seemed to think this through quite thoroughly, chewing on his lower lip. "I can tell you what your hacker's been looking at."

"That's something."

It wasn't something good, however. Whoever had wormed themselves into Aiden's system, they seemed interested in practically everything. His movements, his communication, every system he even looked at briefly. His whole life, or least everything he'd ever committed to a computer, or his phone. The Lenses weren't powerful enough to record without significant lag, but it had apparently been attempted. Aiden even recalled the incident, several weeks earlier and he'd already suspected something was up, but he hadn't been able to find a trace.

"Oh," Frewer said thinly. "Have you… looked at your accounts… recently?"

"All of them?"

Frewer shrugged. "I don't know. How many… how many do you have?"

Aiden stared at the screen. His money was evenly dispersed over several accounts and two dozen fake identities, any one he could burn at a moment's notice if it became necessary. It wouldn't ever be a loss he couldn't take, but if someone was living off his own money, it was probably not a compliment to his skill.

"I can't tell," Frewer said. "But I don't think you've emptied all of them in the last few weeks."

"My money's gone?" Aiden said. "Let me see a list."

Frewer pressed some buttons, and the list scrolled over the screen. True enough, most of his accounts had been emptied, sometimes not completely, usually just above where Aiden would have been notified.

"I got a couple more," he said. It was beginning to feel like he needed every tiny victory. He scanned the screen when Frewer listed where the money went, some random offshore accounts that'd be a bitch to access from here, but…

"There," Aiden said. "ATM withdrawals, I don't usually do that from these accounts."

Frewer made a pained little sound. "Hacking banks is dangerous. If it's money, they are always extra careful. Don't make me."

Aiden narrowed his eyes, considered. "Well, I can't do it, all my shit is suspect and I need the videos from the ATMs. It's not that risky. You've got a direct connection to ctOS from here, you just route it through CPD servers, make it look like an official query, it's all automated. ctOS gets hundreds of queries like that every day."

"You c-could wait until Ray is back…"

Aiden took another deep breath, steadied himself. "Please? If that's the only lead I have, I can't afford to wait."

Frewer took another aggravatingly long minute to reach a conclusion, he suppressed a cheeky grin as he turned back to his screen. "Well, you said please…"

"Don't get used to it," Aiden muttered, but clamped his mouth shut. Negotiating his way around Frewer was the last thing he needed. Frewer looked at Aiden's app for the CPD access, but elected to go the manual route, finding his own way into CPD's network, access the form for ctOS' queries and pulled the ATM recordings from there.

It wasn't the big break he'd hoped it would be. A series of homeless people had apparently emptied the accounts, running Profiler over their faces revealed nothing of immediate interest.

Aiden cursed, pushed off from the table and stomped away until he reached the opposite wall. He stood there, staring at the metal, at the poster taped there. Some 1970s computer ad from a magazine.

"Do you know where I can find them?" Aiden asked.

"Homeless people, everywhere," Frewer said. "Under the freeway, under the bridges, subway tunnels, doorways… "

"A little more specific. Do any of them have cellphones? You can track them by…"

"Y-yes, I know."

Aiden said nothing, stayed where he was and listened to the yapping of Frewer's keyboard. DedSec was his best bet, but he'd done a good job recently of tearing down his connections to them. DedSec didn't like working for hire, they preferred to trade favours and he'd brushed them off one too many times when he hadn't jumped after they told him to.

At the same time, it didn't seem like DedSec's style. His hacker had mostly just _looked,_ hadn't taken anything other than the bank accounts and that, too, seemed either out of convenience or just as a prank to show he could. So far, there'd been no real damage. With this type of access, the hacker could have sent the police down on him any time he liked. He'd know when Aiden was out of commission, where he was sleeping and when. By the time Aiden figured out what was going on, it'd have been too late.

He had no problem living on the edge, he'd been doing it for long enough, it was just what life was like for him. It didn't tear him up because he controlled it. To realise he'd completely lost that control _weeks_ ago…

"I, uh, got you something," Frewer announced.

Aiden turned back around. It took him a moment until he'd gathered himself, walked over to Frewer's side again. One of his monitors showed a live-feed from an L-station, showing a girl hanging around the stairs, asking passerbys for money. Profiler identified her as 'Brenna Holgate, 17', a runaway with a missing person's report filed on her.

She'd been the last one who'd withdrawn anything from his account, not even twenty-four hours ago. That trail wasn't even cold yet. Good.

"Before you r-run off," Frewer said and Aiden stilled before he had started. Frewer reached into a box by his side and pulled an ancient flip-phone out. He held it out to Aiden.

"It's a modified version of your scrambler," he explained. "It doesn't do anything else… I mean, it's still a phone and you can text, but nothing else… of what you normally do. The scrambler works through Profiler, not directly through ctOS, so I blocked it."

He looked at Aiden. "But if… if your hacker is really as good as that, he might get through anyway."

Aiden took the flip-phone, opened it and looked skeptically at it's monochrome screen and oversized pixels, "I'll draw attention just having that dinosaur."

"Leave your other phone here," Frewer said. "Maybe I can work something out."

Aiden snapped the phone closed and dropped it in his pocket. "Thanks."

"Are you… are you g-going to talk about the elephant?"

"Elephant?"

Frewer hung his shoulders. "We-ell. Whoever hacked you is… pretty good. I've seen only a little of your coding and it's… not bad at all, but, well, don't take it personally, but it could have a little more elegance."

"Elegance, really," Aiden arched his brows, caught himself smiling slightly.

Frewer flinched again. "What I mean is, whoever hacked you, he's… probably… he's better than you. But I can tell, that's not a lot of people. So… that should narrow it down?"

"You're thinking Defalt."

Frewer just gave him a pleading look.

"But you put him in the ground," Aiden pointed out. "T-Bone said you retrieved the corpse."

"… yes… but, maybe… that'd explain it, right?"

"Defalt wouldn't hound me for weeks," Aiden said after a moment. "He'd brag about it five minutes in. But maybe you're still onto something. Maybe not DedSec, just a rogue part of it."

He considered, then said, "I need to get in touch with DedSec, but I'd rather not do it through my rig. Are you okay if I use yours?"

"You mean, you're going to come back here?" Frewer asked slowly.

"I'll make sure I'm not followed," Aiden assured him. "I still got _some_ tricks left."

"Oh, okay… yes," Frewer said, even if he looked like he'd rather decline and had himself convinced he'd face a baton if he tried. Aiden sighed inwardly. There was nothing he could do for Frewer and his nerves and while T-Bone was gone, he didn't have the luxury of choosing a different ally.

"Thanks," Aiden said and finally turned to go.

The metal scraped as he opened the container, stepped out. The last thing he heard, before the door locked again, was Frewer muttering, "He said 'thank you'. Twice. And 'please', once. That's worth something, isn't it? Do complete psychopaths do that? Maybe…"

Aiden shook his head as he retrieved his helmet and mounted the bike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite part of this? The flip-phone. Next time when Aiden runs away with my plot, I'll just punish him with it again.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Revised on 31/May/2015 and 11/May/2017**


	2. Chapter 2

Aiden arrived at the station during at the end of the rush hour that had had him bogged down earlier. He parked the bike on the side of the road. He pulled the flip-phone from his pocket and checked its status before he took off the helmet.

He called Frewer to confirm the girl was still there. Everything was riskier now. He couldn't access the cameras directly, he had no way to know if someone recognised him and called the cops and all he had if they _did_ come calling was his driving skill to take him out of dodge.

This girl, she had to know something, even if it was just another lead he could chase. He wasn't going to waste it.

He had to fight against the stream as he climbed the stairs on the opposite end of the platform. He'd considered coming at her from behind, she'd have a harder time bolting over the platform, but he'd decided against it. Despite Frewer's assurance, he'd rather take a good look at her himself before he approached her.

Brenna was a frazzled-looking punk, looking older than she was through the traces meth left on her skin. He just hoped she wasn't too out of it to answer some questions.

A train came and spilled a crowd of people out on the platform, pinning him in place momentarily and he lost sight of her. He began pushing through the crowd, getting closer under its cover while it lasted, but the platform cleared fairly quickly. When he saw the girl again, she was talking to a man. His back was to Aiden and he didn't seem familiar.

Aiden edged forward slowly, putting an outdoor display between himself and the man, careful not to leave him or the girl out of his sight. They seemed to be talking, not handing anything off, but that could already have happened.

Could be nothing, Aiden told himself. Could be just some random acquaintance of the girl, her dealer, her pimp, whatever. Nothing to do with him and his money at all. He fished in his pocket and stilled when his hand closed around the flip-phone and the smarting reminder that he'd been stripped of most of his weapons. He was about to let it go, conceding defeat. Instead he pulled it out and called Frewer again, asking him to run Profiler.

_"Nothing,"_ Frewer said.

"Nothing?" Aiden asked back. "How can there be nothing?"

_"Profiler doesn't recognise him. It aborts the scan."_

"How's that possible?"

_"I don't know. I c-can look into it."_

The loudspeaker announced another train. He felt it come from behind, push the air ahead of it and it picked up his coat and whipped it around him. Ahead of him, the man gave the girl a wave, then turned away from her when the train rushed in.

"It's him," Aiden said, flipped the phone closed and withdrew, keeping the man in his line of sight from the side, making sure he really boarded the train. He was a little hard-pressed to explain _why_ he was so certain, but only a proficient hacker would know how to cheat Profiler, especially on the level Frewer had mentioned.

People spilled out again and Aiden held himself solid against their onslaught, fixed on the other man. He wore his collar up, head tucked down, not enough of him to make out a face like that.

Aiden waited a long moment after the man had got on the train, making sure he didn't jump out again at the last minute. Keeping him in sight, Aiden picked his way along the aisle until he found a seat.

Aiden stepped inside the train and the doors snapped closed behind him. He leaned into the motion of the train as it accelerated, keeping his balance easily. The train wasn't too full, people standing around the doors, the odd empty seat along the way. Aiden picked a good place, gaze glued to the hacker, but only from the corner of his eyes, he didn't need to alert him, or anyone. He forced himself to appear relaxed, affected the vaguely bored expression of any commuter riding the train after a long workday.

Another stop, people rushing out, fewer new ones coming in. Aiden and his quarry stayed where they were. It went for a while, stop after stop as the train slowly emptied as it dropped off its passengers at their destinations.

The train shook to another stop and the phone began to ring in his pocket, it took Aiden by surprise and he startled. Fished the thing out, took a lengthy moment to remember how to switch it off. He caught an amused look from a teenager across the aisle.

More people getting on, this time, blocking his view and when it finally cleared, the man was gone.

Aiden cursed to himself. He pushed himself free and picked his way down the aisle, scanning the people. He had to lunge for a handhold when the train pulled into a hard left turn.

None of the people matched the stranger. He must have got off on the last stop. Because he'd spotted Aiden? Or simply because it was his regular stop?

Aiden stopped, one hand laid around the handhold. This wasn't good, his best lead and he let it get away from him as if he was an amateur. Maybe there was something about what these eco-cultists were saying. If you relied too much on your gadgets, you forgot to think for yourself. And look at him, the fucking poster boy for the sentiment, right about now.

The train jolted again and then, without any warning, it braked so hard, people were thrown from their seats and into each other. Aiden held himself upright, already knowing where this was going to go and then the lights went out.

He could sense the tension in the people around him, the sharply indrawn breaths, the helpless looks they'd cast around in the darkness. There was no light from the city outside, the entire block lost to a blackout.

Aiden took a step, it was as far as he got, before he felt the hard, unyielding pressure of a gun against the back of his head.

"I can't decide," a man said behind him. "Am I impressed you found me at all? Or am I disappointed at how long it took?"

Aiden held himself still. He knew the moment wouldn't last. Someone close by would pick up on this conversation and their eyes would adjust and they'd see. People would interfere, or panic and neither was going to help him, because he'd dropped the ball so hard it had gone right through the fucking floor.

The other hadn't really got off on the last station, he'd just circled back around.

"What do you want?" Aiden asked calmly.

The other man laughed. It was an adult voice, but young. From the angle of the gun barrel and the direction of the voice, Aiden guessed they'd be about the same height, give or take an inch.

"I've been studying you," the man explained, he sounded amused.

"Spending my money."

"I have some expensive hobbies," he said. Aiden felt the shrug through the metal. "Consider it tip, not quite free of charge."

"Now what?" Aiden asked. "You're toying with me, but it looks like your game's about to end, one way or the other."

"Ah, come on? You give up so quickly? I expected better."

"Well," Aiden said. He shifted his feet slowly. Unless the other man was wearing goggles, he wouldn't be able to see any more than Aiden did, even if his eyes adjusted quicker or better. "I never said I give up."

"That's better. You know, what do you say, we take this somewhere more private? I'm sure you don't want an audience for when I wipe the floor with you."

Aiden dropped his hand from the pole he'd been holding. He probably wouldn't be fast enough to go for his gun and he knew nothing of his opponent's abilities, he didn't even know his face or his name. There was just nothing there. On the other hand, _he_ must have been studying Aiden for weeks, if he had weaknesses, if he'd left himself open to anything, this man behind him would know them, perhaps better than he did himself.

"Yeah," Aiden said. "Let's go."

He took a step forward before the hacker behind him could react, though he heard the man's sharply indrawn breath, the admonition he was going to throw after him. Aiden didn't give him the chance.

He ducked down and turned around, out of range of the gun for only a moment. He reached for the arm that held it, but failed to get a good grip in the darkness and the hacker hadn't wasted time on surprise. Knowing he couldn't hit Aiden anymore, he just whipped the gun around and the metal punched hard along Aiden's jaw, send him reeling and he let himself go down briefly. It gave him the angle he needed to pull the baton from his pocket, enough space to swing it in an arc, make it expand and retaliate against the gun.

The hacker hissed when the gun was knocked from his hand, flew away somewhere and hit a window. The other hacker was skinnier than Aiden, he felt it when they collided, but strong enough to keep on his feet.

People's voices were branding up around them, finally suspecting what was going on, but too unsure of what to do. Aiden sensed and vaguely saw them move, scrambling away from them. Someone was yelling further down in the carriage. The mood was tipping.

It was a nightmare fight in the dark and the other hacker was a sinewy fighting machine, too tough to bent, too fast to outmanevoure and far too vicious to outlast. In the dark, Aiden lost the baton when it snagged on a pole in the constrained space of the train. He had to take too many hits, stumbling like a beginner in this dance, missing half the steps.

There came a pause, a moment of accidental respite when both their fumbling had driven them apart. By now, Aiden could see the other, if only as a tall, slim shade outlined in front of him. He straightened up when Aiden disengaged and made no move to follow.

"I see," the hacker said, still amused and just a little bit winded. "No privacy, then. You think you can take me?"

"I think you waste my time."

The other laughed, and launched himself at Aiden, unarmed, but just as hungry as before and perhaps he was seeing better than Aiden in the dark or perhaps he was just luckier, but he blocked Aiden's blows with an ease that should worry him, if he had time to spare. As it was, Aiden was forced back, step by step, or lose his footing entirely to one kick or another. Hard pressed for the first time in a fight, too many years since anyone got close enough for this kind of contest.

Aiden took a punch to the chest that knocked the breath from him, made him stagger for a moment and the other's hand was at his throat, foot making a sweep to get him down. Aiden lurched forward instead, into the hold at his throat. If they were going down, he was going to be on top, but the hacker's balance held, held them both in the end, which was probably not what he'd wanted.

Aiden couldn't bring his own gun to bear, too hard pressed to find the time and freedom of movement. Besides, if he fired a gun, the rest of the carriage _would_ erupt into panic and he couldn't predict what would happen.

Aiden felt the fingers dig into his skin, tearing at him rather than attempting to choke. Aiden smashed his elbow down on the other's arm, caught it when the grip relaxed and twisted the wrist until he heard a satisfying moan of pain from his opponent. Aiden used the moment, yanked the other around and threw him into the side of the carriage.

Someone — not the other man — screamed and Aiden saw someone kicking out at the both of them. Aiden gave the hacker a shove, made sure the kick got his face and the man snarled. He pushed himself up and snapped his head back so sharply, he caught Aiden's chin and then, brought his elbows back into his stomach, stepped into his knee.

Aiden staggered back, hissing himself like an angry animal. It felt like he might actually _lose_ and the taste of it was no better than it had ever been. He had to _take_ too much, didn't give back enough. He couldn't see the other, not clearly enough and his vision seemed to lag behind. He tasted blood from a lip that split without him even noticing.

He got a punch in, at one point, ruptured the other's eyebrow, because that was the only explanation where all the blood was coming from, dripped on him when they collided again. His jaw _ached,_ from the headbutt earlier, from a hit later. His knee wouldn't take his weight completely.

Behind them, he heard the slowly cresting wave of panic from the people. They'd withdrawn to the back of the carriage, trying to get away from the two fighting men.

The hacker downed him, for real this time, a missed step and flagging balance was all it took and the hacker smashed his head to the floor a few times, until the darkness around him began to swim uncertainly. Blood dripped down to his face and he scrambled for a hold along the other's arms, but found only the feeble hold of his shirt.

Distantly, he heard somebody yell, couldn't place it and the hacker's weight abruptly left him. Aiden blinked, confused momentarily, but he wasn't going to waste the chance. He leaned back up, managed to twist free and roll back to his feet. He stood breathing hard. A group of men filled the space in front of him, all yelling, hard to understand individually, but it boiled down to a 'stop this shit'.

Some detached themselves from the hacker and went for Aiden.

No, not like this, Aiden decided. He held out his arm to stop their advance, finally pulled the gun, held it over his head and fired into the roof. The bang was extraordinarily loud. The group of men twitched back, some calling to him to calm down, but it wasn't a concertred effort and everything blurred together in the dark.

Aiden brushed them aside and boxed his way to the hacker, as people scrambled to get out of his way. He whipped the hacker over the head with the gun and gripped his neck as he buckled. He'd thrown up a defending arm, tried another step into Aiden's already weak knee, but he'd been thrown off kilter and his earlier precision was out of his reach. Aiden caught the arm, twisted again, harder than before and he wasn't going to stop until the wrist snapped or the man curled down with the angle. Maybe he'd snap it anyway.

Aiden kicked the back of his knees, helped him down, used the hold on his neck to punch _him_ into the edge of an armrest, then dragged him back up, slung an arm around his throat from behind and just held on with all his strength. He dragged them both a few steps, away from the group of men and other people.

The hacker made a few good attempts at getting out of the lock, struggling for all he was worth and snarling like a captured animal. He pretended to go limp, when he realised Aiden was stronger than him, but it was too early to be believable. Aiden found a door he could throw him into as punishment.

The groan he made sounded oddly broken, which was harder to fake. He wasn't unconscious, but he was obviously not getting up again, but struggling anyway.

Aiden stood away from him, regarded the man for a moment, then gave him a good kick in the side. No defence reflex kicked in, no attempt to catch his foot and turn the move against him. The kick connected with the hacker's kidney and the man rolled in on himself.

Aiden dared look away from him, could just about make out the people at the end of the carriage.

"Stay where you are," Aiden growled and the group of men who had interfered earlier stilled their slow advance. "It doesn't concern you."

He doubted he'd get to command them for long. He needed to get out of here.

He found the emergency switch for the door, unlocked it and forced the doors open. Threw the other hacker out ahead of him, climbed down slowly himself, mindful of his body's state.

By the time he bent down to pick him back up, the man had mustered enough strength that he fought back, but he couldn't get the upper hand again, just made the first few yards of the slow walk a bigger pain. Aiden threw him down to the tracks, twice, to make his point and the man stopped trying after that.

It was a short walk to the next station, painful and somewhat awkward. Aiden had pacified the hacker by binding his hands and giving no quarter over the man's damaged wrist.

"You know," the man groaned as they walked. "I didn't think this was how it was going to go."

"Yeah," Aiden agreed. "I like this outcome better."

The man gargled a laugh. "But you didn't think you'd make it, right? I _had_ you. If those dumbfucks hadn't pulled me off…"

"You'd have a bullet in the brain by now," Aiden finished through clenched teeth. It was all he could do not to put him down there and then, just for messing with him at all. He needed answers, though, and an explanation what this was about, how deep it went.

Besides, he didn't feel charitable enough to offer a quick death.

They reached the station. It was mostly empty, people seemed to have abandoned it as the blackout lasted. Speaking of which, ctOS backups should have kicked in by now. Whatever the hacker had done seemed to be lasting. If nothing else, Aiden definitely wanted what the man was using.

Aiden's ancient phone picked up no carrier, unsurprisingly, but the darkness actually helped him move around undisturbed, despite looking like he'd picked a fight and lost.

Some moderate chaos had descended on the streets, but this was a mostly peaceful neighbourhood, a blackout wouldn't push it over the edge.

Without his phone, Aiden was forced to search a while until he found a car old enough he could hotwire it the old-fashioned way. He pushed the hacker down in the passenger seat.

The man had held his silence after their brief exchange on the train tracks. He sniggered sometimes, observing Aiden with a kind of condescending amusement, but he didn't comment on it.

As they drove, he finally chose to break his silence and say, "Now what?"

"You don't want to know," Aiden said darkly.

The hacker chuckled and said nothing more.

Eventually, they got back into a district where the lights worked and traffic was normal. Aiden pulled the phone from his pocket and called Frewer, who sounded close to hysterics after he'd lost sight of Aiden in the blackout.

Aiden listened to him for a while, then interrupted when he realised Frewer wouldn't stop on his own. He told him to set up one of the containers as impromptu prison, they'd need it.

They stopped at a traffic light and Aiden used the chance to finally get a good look at the hacker. His face was battered from the fight, blood crusted down the side of his face, bruises forming along his jaw, but despite that…

It took Aiden a long minute until it registered, the familiarity of the features, though he hadn't seen him in many years. The sharp eyes and ironically curved mouth, even if he'd always looked more like his mother.

The traffic lights changed, brushed bright orange briefly through the dusty windshield, followed by harsh green, painting his face.

Aiden felt himself go still, disconnected from the world, reduced to this moment in the car with the too bright green light and the seething anger at the back of his head and the slow-burning pain in his body. He'd considered many things, even Defalt had been more likely than this. Preferable, too, for many reason.

"And so he recognises me," Marcus Brenks said and grinned as if he'd still won some kind of victory.

Behind them, the first driver found the horn and started to abuse it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for everyone who expected or hoped for Defalt. Until I hear something else from canon, I'll assume he really is dead. Besides, I'm not particularly confident I can write him well and I kind of hated his guts in the game anyway.
> 
> A case could be made for Marcus actually having his mother's surname, but for the sake of recognition value, Brenks it is.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Revised on 01/June/2015 and 11/May/2017**


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I mistyped DedSec in some way every time it came up. DedSex was the most fun, but I've also had DeadSec and DecSed.
> 
> I seem to derive some sadistic pleasure from listing Aiden's crimes to him.

Aiden tossed Marcus into the wall of the metal container, too rough perhaps, but it was the best he could do when he had to hold himself back from inflicting more permanent damage. He frisked him methodically, picking out two phones, brass knuckles, some spare ammo and a wallet full of blank cards.

After, he threw Marcus into the gaping blackness of the container. He hadn't bothered to check whether Frewer had added or removed any furnishings, but he didn't care either way.

Marcus landed with a thud, audibly failed to suppress a groan, but rolled back to his feet with the speed and careless grace of any practised fighter, willing and able to keep going even when his body started to fail. He was too far to cross the distance and take Aiden by surprise and stopped himself dead right in front of him.

"Oh come on," Aiden sneered. "Giving up so fast?"

He had the other's measure now, he wasn't going to make the same mistake again or underestimate him. Marcus had had one chance to take him out and he hadn't come through. There would not be another.

Some distant lamp shed enough light to make out the way Marcus twisted his mouth into a smirk. "I need medical care," he said. "And some painkillers. Maybe a drink."

"Those are privileges," Aiden said. "You've got to earn them."

He stepped back, was in no mood to give Marcus any more chance to play out his farce, whatever his point was. Aiden slammed the door closed, checked the lock to make sure it was secure.

He stomped over to Frewer's container, knocked and was let in without the usual dance from Frewer.

Not much later, he sat on the edge of Frewer's bunk bed, the contents of a first aid kit strewn around the mattress by his side. He'd disinfected and bandaged what he could, downed a handful of painkillers in the process. He was vaguely disappointed Frewer hadn't offered the bottle of gin Aiden saw peeking from behind a computer case on a shelf, but he wasn't going to ask for it.

It wasn't the first time he'd been beaten up, he tended to heal quickly, but that knee was going to be a problem for a while. He should probably take it to a real doctor soon, get it x-rayed just to be sure. For now, the tight bandage he'd wrapped around it lessened the strain enough and he could move without much of a limp. If he had to, he could fake being entirely healthy, too. There was no such thing as a bite inhibition in the circles he moved in.

Marcus Brenks, Damien's son, of all people, out for his blood. The last time he'd seen him, Marcus had been a teenager. He'd come to hang around after school sometimes, when his mother was still at work and Damien and Aiden could afford to let him stick around.

He'd been a clever kid and as far as Aiden could tell, the best of both his parents. Damien had never wanted him near anything illegal, some silent accord with his wife that Aiden wasn't privy to. She had left Damien over his career choices shortly after Aiden had met him, but she was fine with Marcus seeing him as long as Marcus was kept away from the dirt.

She had left Chicago soon after Damien was attacked, perhaps out of fear, or perhaps she'd been threatened, Aiden didn't know. He'd made sure she knew about Damien's death, though he'd been sparse with the details.

"Uh…" Frewer said and Aiden looked up. "DedSec wants to talk to you."

"Sure, talk," Aiden said. "Keep the cameras off."

_"Aiden Pearce… we hear you have something that belongs to us."_

"I don't know what you're talking about," Aiden said.

_"There was an incident today on the L."_

"What's it to you?"

_"One of our members was involved."_

"Here's the thing," Aiden said. "Anyone who puts a gun to my head, _automatically_ belongs to me."

_"We would prefer if you released him unharmed."_

"Unharmed will be a problem," Aiden said. He put the first aid kit away and got up, walked until he stood right behind Frewer. He spotted the input from Marcus' phone on one monitor, but had no time to pay it much attention. "Let me make this perfectly clear. You keep your geeky little fingers out of it. You don't want to mess with me on this."

_"We protect our own. You'd do well to remember that."_

Aiden sighed, made sure it was loud enough for the mic to pick it up. "He came after me, he made it my business and I'm taking care of it. Be grateful if I decide you didn't have anything to do with it."

_"We do not like to be threatened."_

"That's something we have in common."

DedSec didn't answer immediately. Then, _"Marcus Brenks is important to us. What do you want in exchange?"_

Aiden considered. He couldn't be sure how much of this was Marcus' personal vendetta and how much might be DedSec finally moving against him. They _seemed_ to be only interested in getting Marcus back, but you could never be sure with DedSec and their stupid little games. He needed to know a great deal more before he committed to anything at all.

"I'll get back to you," Aiden said, reached past Frewer before the man had a chance to react, and cut the connection.

Aiden stepped back from Frewer, who turned in his seat to look up at him.

"Marcus Brenks?" he asked, but in a tone that implied he already knew.

"Damien's son," Aiden confirmed. "I never…" He stopped himself, not sure what he was going to say. _I never expected him to come after me?_ Why? Because he somehow held the patent on avenging dead family members? Because Marcus had been a nice kid, once? Because he had been buying into his own legend a little too much lately?

"Can you look him up? I want to know what he's been up to the last few years."

Frewer turned back to his computer without any enthusiasm. "I don't want to mess with DedSec," he muttered. "I can't threaten… threaten them l-like you do."

"They are mostly bark," Aiden assured him. "Very little bite."

"Easy for you to say."

* * *

The metal door of the container screamed and hissed as Aiden pushed it open. Silvery morning sun spilling in around him, cast his shadow, elongated and dark across the container's bare floor and equally bare walls. It was empty, except for the dirt.

Marcus had curled up in a corner, his back pressed against it, wrapped into his jacket as well he could. He stirred, raised his hand against the light and struggled into a sitting position. He had worked the ties on his hands loose.

A cold night and an already battered body had left him stiff and slow. He leaned his back against the wall, legs extended in front of him. He let his head loll back as he watched Aiden walk inside.

"Look at you, the infamous vigilante of Chicago," Marcus greeted him.

Aiden set the chair he carried down, back to front and sat down, arms curled over the back, the sun still behind him, hiding his face and expression. Hiding the marks Marcus had left there, too, but that didn't matter because they both knew they were there.

"Not so dangerous without your poisoned fangs, are you?" Marcus continued. "Or maybe it's just that you're getting old. Things aren't as easy as they used to be, are they? All that running and fighting, do you feel it in your joints? And the technology, oh, the technology! Advancing ever faster and it's so hard to keep up sometimes, isn't it?"

"Doing good enough to catch you," Aiden said. "What do you want? Revenge?"

"Maybe," Marcus said in a mocking sing-sang tone. "Would it be so outlandish? Surely I can't be the first one. In fact, I _know_ I'm not. I've been all over your things for weeks. I know. Didn't you think that was strange?"

"What do you mean?"

"So many people, calling for your blood."

Marcus made a limp gesture with one hand. He kept the other cradled close to his chest, the wrist Aiden had nearly broken the night before.

Marcus added, "Or is it that common for you?"

"There's always someone," Aiden said slowly, giving nothing away. "I'm worth much more dead than alive to a lot of people."

"No," Marcus said and grinned. "Someone like me. Someone for whom it's personal."

Aiden shifted a little, put his head to the side. "Why don't you just say what you want to say."

Marcus' grin widened, baring his teeth. He flexed his shoulders against the wall as if he contemplated leaping up. "Do you know what it feels like?" he asked then, not looking directly at Aiden. "It's like an itch, you can't scratch it, but you know what it needs to go away."

He looked back at Aiden. "DedSec recruited me, you know. They offered. They thought I'd be good at this. They got a lot of files on Dad, I know what he did. I know what _you_ did, too. And I found this… thing… this snippet of information, buried deep. DedSec doesn't have a whole lot on it, or else they're hiding it even from me, but when I found it, everything made sense."

He leaned forward, eyes wide in the sunlight, "You know about Bellwether, don't you?"

"Yes," Aiden said and his voice sounded rough, pushed to the edge from one moment to the next and although he hadn't moved again, his form seemed suddenly tensely coiled, locked between the instinct of fight or flight, despite or because of who he was.

Marcus sniggered. "Imagine you're Blume. You're a mostly benevolent company who wants to _spread_ that benevolence across the world. It could be worse, we've had a lot of dictators who'd do a much worse job than Blume. But there's this guy running wild, playing with all your stuff, soiling everything and you can't catch him. What do you do, if you're Blume and that damned vigilante just doesn't know when to quit?"

"You're saying they used Bellwether," Aiden said slowly. "They used Bellwether to influence people against me?"

Marcus exaggerated a shrug. "People with a grievance," he corrected. "I looked at what you do _._ I guess you think you're the hero."

"I don't think like that anymore," Aiden said and the shadow on his face gave nothing away.

"Well, no need to convince me," Marcus assured him. "I never believed it. I mean, I don't know what precise mental illness you have, but you're quite the piece of work."

Marcus moved up along the wall, pushed his shoulders back into the metal as he stood up. The sunlight crawled over his face, the condescending smile and for just a moment, despite the distance of time and the engravings of a whole different life, he looked just like his father. Then, his face was in shadow, levelling the playing field.

"You're a terrorist, you destroy lives," Marcus wagged his hand vaguely. "And what's the good you do? It usually doesn't go down without a few explosions or multi-car pileups and there's probably a cop graveyard just for you somewhere. How do you even sleep at night?"

"You were telling me about Bellwether."

"Ah, yes, well, what it means is, there's potentially a city full of people who _kind of_ want to hurt you. And that's what Bellwether does, it just finds these people, gives them a little push until they're moving in the right direction. Most just break themselves on you, of course. Look at you, you didn't even notice. Don't think I misjudged you, I was planning to do this slowly. You got lucky, that's all. I wasn't ready for you on the train. I didn't expect you and when you were there, I couldn't _stop._ "

The scorn bled into his amused voice, coloured it dark and ugly as the faint echo beat back and forth in the empty container. He laughed, suddenly and it sounded almost self-depreciating.

"You taught me to fight," Marcus said. "Not the real thing, I know, but you showed me a couple self-defence moves in Dad's living room? Made me feel like a badass. And I used them against a bully at my school. I felt great."

"Am I getting this straight?" Aiden asked slowly. If the memory affected him at all, it didn't show. "You _realised_ you were being brainwashed?"

"Oh yeah, eventually," Marcus nodded. "Right now, I really want to go for your throat, but I know better. You're not as good as you think, but I always knew I couldn't just march up to you and beat you down. That wasn't gonna work, so I used what DedSec gave me. I figured you out."

"Why wouldn't you try to resist?"

Marcus seemed to find the question quite entertaining. He slipped down the wall again a little as he laughed. "I didn't want to, why would I? You killed my father."

"He left me no choice," Aiden growled.

"See, two months ago, maybe I'd have believed that, because DedSec sort of respects you and doesn't want to step on you toes, so their information on you is limited. But I've seen _all_ your shit. And let me tell you, Dad was an asshole, but so are you. You're as guilty as he ever was. If he deserved to die, so do you."

"How can you tell?" Aiden asked. "How do you know that's what you want? Could be just Bellwether putting ideas in your head. Can't be comfortable knowing someone's messing around in there."

"Yeah," Marcus agreed, seemed thoughtful for a moment. "But then, how should I ever solve that? Maybe I'm brainwashed to hell and back and I can't even fight it. Or _maybe_ you are just a very sorry excuse for a human being and it's about time someone gives you the mercy killing you really need."

Aiden pulled back a little in his seat. The sun had climbed higher by now, shortened the shadows even as the light began to fill the container with a murky gloom. Not enough to see clearly by, but enough to see the tense set of his shoulders and the way he relaxed his left leg.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked.

"You've got to ask? You'll kill me. You have to," Marcus sniggered. "Maybe I'm going to be the corpse that finally doesn't let you sleep. There's got to be a threshold _somewhere_."

"Frewer worked on Bellwether, I think, perhaps he knows a way to reverse the effects."

"Oh, really?" Marcus sneered. "Trying to save me? No, you don't get to do that. Think of it like this, I've been fed spoonfuls of kool-aid for a long time without realising it. If I _had_ known what was going on, I'd have downed the whole damn bottle on my own."

Marcus pushed himself free from the wall, took a step more into the light and held himself there, soaking up the warmth. He took another step and he was fully in the light, beaten and bruised face, torn and dirty clothes, vicious little smile.

He kept walking as he spoke, slowly picking up speed as his muscles warmed to the movement, picking up glitter in his eyes from the light and rage from his own words.

"Come on, shoot me!" he demanded. "Like you do everyone! Because I _swear to you,_ on my father's grave, on _all_ the graves, I swear, I will never stop. I'll hunt you _forever._ It's in my head. I didn't put it there, but it sure as hell isn't going away. I _want_ this. I need to see you broken beyond help or hope. I need nothing else in my life more than your death! I'm not, ever, going to stop coming after you, if you let me live. Do you understand? It's here!" He rapped his knuckles on the side his head. "So deep, I can feel it! Like I can hear your blood beating in your veins and I have to make it _stop."_

He dropped his arms by his side, watched Aiden. Half the length of the container was still between them. Aiden hadn't moved, not to defend or to attack. He'd only leaned his head back a little so he could watch Marcus better.

"But do you know what else?" Marcus asked and bared his teeth."I _want_ to, too. You _know,_ don't you? I've seen the notes you keep on your marks, the people you blackmail and threaten and use, before you waste them or throw them away. You know the limits of manipulation. This," he waved his arm. "This illusion of free will we have? It's our limit. You can't get anyone, ever, to do something they truly don't want to. So it's easy. _I_ was easy. Hell, I didn't fight back at all. They were just giving me what I wanted anyway! All Bellwether did was tell me I could do it. Looks like it lied, but it was a good one. That's where we are _._ I lost, I get it, but the drive is still there and it won't go away. So do what you must. Spare me in some misguided moment of compassion, the one you didn't have when you gunned down my father. You'll pay if you do, you know. I'll get the better of you. Maybe not today, but give it a few years. Time will be cruel on you and one day, you'll be vulnerable and weak and truly old and I'll still be at the top of my game."

"You're asking me to kill you," Aiden said, very calmly.

"No," Marcus shook his head emphatically. "I'm telling you what'll happen if you don't. I don't want to die, but I'm not delusional."

Aiden tilted his head to the side, seemed to be listening to something outside. After a moment, Marcus stilled in concentrated silence.

"Do you hear the humming?" he asked. "You're window's closing."

Aiden didn't react immediately. He let the moment hang there, let it stretch to the breaking point while the distant humming deepened and split into the roar of engines and something else, thinner and higher, riding above the noise.

Marcus took another step and Aiden jumped into action without preamble or warning. Off from the chair, he kicked it aside, crossed the space to Marcus and gripped him by the collar, dragged back until he could slam him into the wall, gun drawn and ready, muzzle pressed hard to the soft tissue under Marcus' jaw.

Frewer's voice dropped into the container, preceding him.

"Aiden! They're here! They're _here!"_

'They' could mean anything, coming from Frewer. Aiden tightened the finger on the trigger, saw the odd eagerness in Marcus' face and he yanked away from him abruptly, tossed him away and hurried outside.

A pack of cars drove up to them, spread out like a fan to close all roads, kicking up clouds of dust as they braked in the open space between the containers. There was nothing immediately recognisable about the cars, different types and class, normal license plates. The men who got out of the cars were heavily armed, though, some geared up as if they were heading into a war-zone. Fixers or Blume Corporate Police, it was hard to be certain. Three small black drones hovered above the cars.

Aiden stopped dead, caught Frewer's gaze from a few feet away, where the other man had also stopped, breathing hard. He snapped his hands up high in the air without being prompted.

Aiden waited until one of the men sought out his gaze, moved his gun and Aiden raised his hands slowly, letting his gun hang from a finger casually. He looked away from the men and at the drones instead. They were too small to be armed, meant for surveillance. One of them detached itself from the others, hovered down and stopped in front of Aiden.

It projected a DedSec avatar into the air between them. Trust DedSec to waste resources on toys like that, it always gave them away.

_"We are taking back what you owe us."_

Aiden said nothing. From the corner of his eyes, he saw one of the armed men go to the container and after a moment, Marcus joined him. They argued briefly and Marcus tried to go for the man's gun, but was rebuffed. The man closed his hand around Marcus' arm and dragged him back to the car.

_"We will not work with you anymore,"_ DedSec declared. _"You would be wise to stay away from us, too."_

"He's worth that much to you?" Aiden asked.

The fixer had got Marcus into a car, he and three others climbed back in themselves, started the car and turned it around, drove away. Marcus had been right, the window was closing fast.

DedSec didn't deign to answer. The hologram shut down and the drone flew away, after the car with Marcus.

Aiden was aware of Frewer not far away, he could almost see the man shiver in agitation or fear or a bit of both. He counted four other cars, fifteen men, armed to the teeth. No doubt Blume was watching by now, unless Frewer had done something to keep them in the dark.

Aiden found one of the fixers, picked at random, stared him down until the man flinched almost imperceptibly and the motion went through the others, a minuscule distraction as their comrade's alarm drew their attention. Aiden's moment to move, if he meant to move at all.

He jump-started, brought the gun down and spun it back into his hand, took aim as he ran and fired three shots, it was all he had time for, saw the men fall as if their strings had been cut. He collided with another, smashed the flat of his free hand upward on his chin, gripped the barrel of his gun and pulled it out of his hand. He used the gun to pull them both around, get him between himself and some of the other, felt the impact of their bullets on the fixer's own vest.

Aiden dropped the man, saw what he needed in the hands of another fixer and flew at him, tore the rifle from him. He had no time to waste on the others. He jumped on the nearest car, only took the time to glance back at Frewer to shout, "Jam the bridge! Frewer! Jam the bridge!"

He didn't look to see if Frewer did as he was told, if he _could_ or if one of the gunshots he heard behind him had taken the old programmer down. Aiden jumped to the ground, hit it running and sprinted the short distance to another container. He shouldered the rifle and scaled the container, felt the impacts of bullets just beneath his feet.

He ran along on top of the container, climbed onto another at the end. It was as far and as high as he could get, but it was enough to see the bridge leading off the island swing away from the island and lock itself in the middle.

The car swerved to a halt at the last moment.

Aiden threw himself down, set up the rifle with deft movements, leaned in behind the scope and brought it around until the car was in his crosshairs. Neither the men nor Marcus were getting out. A quick sweep revealed that the bridge wasn't steady, but swung this way and that under contradictory input.

Aiden took several deep breaths, steadied himself in the scant seconds he had. He took aim again, held his breath and fired. Once, twice, three shots in quick succession. The bullets punched through the hood of the car, getting lost within the engine and _tore through the tank._

If there was a delay, then only in the perception of those waiting and watching before the gas ignited and the car went up in a fireball and the bang of the detonation ruptured the air around it. The was propelled to the side, rolled and smashed into a steel pillar, deformed around it. It slithered a little further before it stopped, burning black metal in a circle of tiny sparks, setting the dry gras around it on fire.

Aiden picked himself up and climbed down, didn't look back to the others, he could take care of them later. The jog up the path to the bridge reminded with cruel delay of his damaged knee and all the other minor wounds he'd sustained recently. There'd come a time when he wouldn't be able to just ignore these things and keep going, Marcus was right. He'd need to change the way he operated, if he meant to stay ahead. Today, however, he just went anyway, pushed through.

He slowed down as he approached the burning car. The flames still eating around the frame of it. He spotted one of the fixers trying to crawl out of a broken window, visible skin badly burned, one arm mangled in a bloody mess.

Aiden circled around the car and stopped.

Marcus had got further than the others. The blast had seared one half of his face, burned some of his clothes. His legs seemed not to be working properly, but whether just from pain or from some worse wound was impossible to tell. Marcus seemed to have given up trying to get further away and lay on his side, turned back to look at the burning car.

As Aiden approached, Marcus seemed to relax, turned his strangely pensive gaze away from the fire and at Aiden.

"Like father, like son?" Marcus said. His voice was rough, charred vocal chords perhaps, burned all the way down to his lungs and his breathing was laboured. "Good job."

Aiden felt the heat of the flames bite through his clothes, uncomfortably close. He crouched down by Marcus' side, after a moment, he crossed his legs and sat, looking past Marcus.

"You asked for it," he said.

"No," Marcus laughed and then lost the laugh in a cough. "It's all on you."

"There was another way."

Marcus laughed again, closed his eyes when he couldn't breath after that. "A way you didn't choose."

Aiden looked down at him, traced the numerous wounds with his gaze, gauged their severity. "You could live," he said then.

"What for?" Marcus asked back, his voice had degraded to a whisper. A gust of wind picked at the flames, drew them higher into the sky, demonic glow sheathed in pitch-black smoke. It drew Aiden's gaze away from the young man, made him watch the sparks as they danced and died.

"Is it still itching?" he asked.

Marcus chortled, curled in on himself as he did. "So very _very_ badly," he rasped, but the laugh faded away, ended in scorched gargle.

There was movement around them. The other fixers circling them from a save distance, some of them pulling their other comrades from the wreckage, but none came close and none of them raised their guns at Aiden's seated form, leaving him be.

Aiden looked down at Marcus, after he hadn't said anything else in a while. Marcus was still alive, but drifting or already unconscious, perhaps succumbing under shock in addition to all his other wounds.

Aiden pulled himself to his feet, through the debilitating pain in his knee and turned to face the fixers. The drone was back, circled him once, seemed to survey the wreckage and the broken men around it, then stopped in front of Aiden.

He looked back at it, dropped his hands into his pockets, held himself casually disaffected by what had happened.

The projected avatar of DedSec said, _"How many lives does a fox have?"_

Another time, Aiden could have ripped through the distortion to hear the real, feeble voice of whoever was speaking. He could have dismantled the ridiculous digital mask DedSec used, reminded them of why they didn't use those things when talking with him. He could have made the drones drop from the sky like flies at the swipe of a finger. He still had Frewer's flip-phone in his pocket, but it could do none of those things.

"I have no idea," Aiden answered. "I'll just take your shares when I run out."

He strode past the drone, dismissed it. DedSec _could_ force the confrontation, there really was only one way for it to go, but if nothing else, they liked their drama and their posturing, they liked making the big gestures.

The fixers got out of his way as he approached them, guided by the distorted voice in the ear-pieces, no doubt.

Only when he'd passed through them did he stop, if only briefly. Glanced over his shoulder at the sorry bunch of them. He considered saying something, just so he didn't just have the last word, but to drive it home. He didn't, though, it didn't seem to matter too much.

He was making a mistake, he knew and it was far from the first since this entire episode began. Marcus wasn't dead, or at least not dead enough. If the fixers moved quickly, they could still save him. He should have finished it, severed that loose end instead of just letting go. But it'd be a waste, wouldn't it, of both talent and legacy. Someone had _done_ this to Marcus, someone was responsible and deserved death far more.

He kept walking, through the pain in his leg which he wouldn't show, and pushed forward by the heat at his back from the burning car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Reference:** Aiden's "I'll just take your shares" is paraphrased from Sayikui Reload: Burial by Kazuya Minekura: _"Whoever wants to die first, come and attack me. I will live. I will live your shares of lives as well."_
> 
> The 'how many lives does a fox have' line seems entirely too clever to come from me, I can't seem to track it, though.
> 
> **Author's Note:** I wrote this basically in one go and I loved it to little bits. Now, with some distance, I'm not so sure of it anymore. I may have overdone it a bit. Go figure.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Revised on 01/June/2015 and 11/May/2017**

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I give up. I _will_ be writing these for the rest of my life. Every time I think I'm running out of ideas, something hits me over the head and I write six thousand words in an evening. That's _never ever_ happened before.


End file.
